Clear and Bright: Chapter Seventeen: Listen

                                             
                                                   
The quiet darkness shifts.

Gentle noise.

Movement.

A dream...

Whispered agony.

Touch.

No... not a dream.

He's here.


My eyes won't open, the pain and exhaustion won't let them.

I can't see...

But I can hear.

I can feel.

Something pulled from my frozen grip.

Arms around me.

Lifting me.

Cradling me.

His arms.

Holding me close.

Enveloping me in warmth.

Strength.

I feel his heart beating against me.

Pounding.

I feel his breath on my face.

Murmurs of sorrow and regret.

His soft lips on my skin.

His cheek against mine.

His pain.

His fresh tears where mine have dried.



Moving.

Weightless.

Floating.

Flying.

The wounded little bird with the broken wing no longer helpless.

No longer alone.

No longer afraid.

Her eyes no longer sad.

No more tears flow from them.

They are his now.

She is loved.

I am loved.


He stops and one arm falls from around me and I whimper, trying to pull it back.

"Shhh... I've got you," he whispers, pulling me securely against him.

I hear a soft rustling sound and we're moving again, his arm back in place.

He stops again and I feel the downward shift. He's going to put me down.

I clutch desperately to him. "No... please... "

"I'm right here, sweetheart. It's okay."

"No... don't let go... please... I'm so cold... "

"I know, baby. I'm going to make that better, I promise. I'm going to make everything better... if you'll let me."

I clutch harder to his t-shirt and bury my face in the crook of his neck and he sighs.

"I know I did this... and I'm so sorry...

Can you open your eyes for me? I won't ask you to trust me right now... but can you open your eyes so I can show you?"

I fight my heavy lids and open my eyes. He's on his knees in front of the fireplace, a pillow and warm blanket clutched in his hand... it's what he let go for. He still holds me securely, waiting for my understanding.

"You're frozen, Claire... I just want to start a fire... it will warm you up faster... if I could do it with you in my arms I would, but I can't, sweetheart... I have to put you down. Okay?"

I nod my head and he smiles at me, pulling me against him with one arm as he tosses the pillow onto the floor. He shakes the blanket out, letting it unfold, and begins to wrap it around me before laying me down. I curl into a ball and he tucks it around me, and an angry expression forms on his face. I pout at him and he shakes his head.

"What am I going to do with you? Hmmm?" He takes my hands in his, blowing his hot breath on them and trying to warm them, before planting a kiss on each and tucking them under the blanket. "I know I'm an asshole... and I know my actions hurt you... and as broken as I am over that... and as much as it would punctuate everything that this was about... I should blister your ass for your little window stunt."

I frown at his chosen words, "My ass? You don't want it anymore?" I ask sadly.

He rolls his eyes at me and turns to tend to building a fire. I watch him, looking for some understanding of why he stayed away from me for so long, but I can't find it through his irritation at my stupidity. I know that's not all he feels, I felt his tears on my face, but the confusing storm that he is is brewing right before my eyes.

The flames start to rise up and a flicker of an amber glow catches my eye. Like the last time I laid here, there is a bottle on the table beside the chair, and beside it, an empty glass. This is where he was. Sitting right here in this room, perhaps trying to numb himself, just as I was, just in a different way. A deep shiver runs through me, the cold still not releasing me from it's hold, and he looks at me sadly.

"Can I have some of that?" I ask, gesturing my head towards the bottle. "Is it true that it warms your insides?"

He glances at it warily, then back to me. "It does, I suppose, but I don't think you'd like it very much. I can get you something hot that you'll like much better. Hot chocolate?"

"Can I try it?"

"Who am I to tell you no? " he says with a sigh, and grabs the bottle.

"Who are you and what have you done with Jaimin?" I stare at him with mock horror as I struggle out of my cocoon to sit up.

He gives me a small smile and puts the glass to my lips, tilting it just enough to give me a small sip. I swallow and my eyes go wide. It burns my throat, making me cough and gag. It courses through me and burns my stomach, not exactly the warmth I was expecting. I blink back the tears that prick my eyes and frown.

"Are you okay?" he asks, stroking my hair.

"It burns. I don't like it."

"I'll get you some water."

He's up and moving before I can say anything. My eyes follow him until I can no longer see him. Something in my peripheral vision catches my attention and my mouth falls open in shock as I see the massive expanse of bare walls where the 'Gallery of Me' once hung. It was there just a few hours ago. Now it's just gone.

What have I done?

He turned his back on me.

He sat in this room for hours.

Alone.

He didn't even want to see my face.

He doesn't sound like himself.


I can't breathe.

This can't be happening.

I don't understand.

I felt his tears.

He said he was broken.

Broken.


I don't see him come back into the room.

I don't hear him.

I don't even feel him until he's on his knees in front of me and cups my chin to turn my face to his.

"Don't misunderstand."

"I think it's clear... "

"For me, not for you."

"But that's the nature of things like this, isn't it? Someone's always in the dark... until... "

"No, Claire... "

"Don't, Jaimin. I know you think I'm a weak little girl... but I'm not. You don't have to baby me. Just do it. Take it all away. Punish me. I killed your dream. Make me suffer for it. Hurt me. Break me."

"Jesus, what have I done to you?"

"Not enough, which is completely humiliating... " I wipe the stupid tears from my face and throw the blanket off. Maybe the burn will kill the sick feeling in my stomach. I crawl over to the table and grab the glass, taking a long, burning drink. It sears everything it touches, sets my insides on fire.

"Stop, Claire, you're going to make yourself sick." He takes the glass from my hand and hands me the water he was still holding.

"I already am sick."


I understand now.

The tears weren't for me.

They were for her.

His ruined dream girl.

Ruined by real.

Ruined by me.

And now he can't even stand to look at her anymore.


Well, okay. I won't make him say it. I can be selfless for him one more time.

Selfless?

No.

Not even a little bit.

I'm not selfless.

Selfish.

That's what I am.

That's what I've always been.

I don't want to hear him say it.

I don't want to feel the pain of that sound.


"Claire... " He's staring at me. Confused. Guilty.

"No... I'm sorry. I really am. I did try...

I just couldn't compete.

Your dream was too beautiful.

Too perfect.

I'm sorry you wasted so much time.

I'm sorry I disappointed you... "

"Stop this."

Now even my voice is making him sick.

I nod my head and stand, and walk from the room.

I don't belong here anymore.

I'm on the outside again.

Locked in and then thrown out.

Unwanted.

Ugly.


I go to the closet in his bedroom and open the doors.

There she is.

This is where he put her.

I hate her.

I hate her stupid face.

I hate her big, stupid eyes.

My mother was right.

They steal souls.

I bared mine and she took it away from me.



I pull a sweater over my head. I don't care that I'm wearing my pajamas. It doesn't matter.

"Claire."

I don't answer him. He doesn't have to say anything. He doesn't have to tell me why. It doesn't matter. When something is spoiled, you throw it away. You don't need any reason when something's just no good.

I grab my boots and walk out of the closet, closing the doors behind me, locking her in. I only get a few steps before he grabs my arm roughly, and rips the boots from my hand, throwing them across the room.

"Damn it, Claire! I said stop!"

I look at him now.

He's angry.

Trembling with it.

Rolling.

Crashing.

Confusing.

Storm.

I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold, his fingers digging into my arm. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I don't know what you want me to do," I whisper, the tears coming again.

"Don't leave me, Claire. Don't ever leave me."

His chilling tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I'm so confused... "But you don't want me.  You don't want to see my face. You don't want to hear my voice. You... "

His eyes are blazing. "I what? Not one word of that has any semblance of truth, and you damn well know it! What the hell kind of game are you playing?"

"I'm not... I... I... " He's so angry... I can't focus... It feels like he's crushing my arm. The new tears forming in my eyes now are from pain. Unrelenting pain. "Jaimin... please... you're hurting me... "

My voice cracks with my pleading words and his anger turns to instant horror. He drops my arm and steps back, repeatedly reaching for me and pulling his hands back in a helpless, lost gesture.

It doesn't matter how hurt and confused I am. He's hurting now and it's breaking my heart.

I take a step, and reach towards him and he backs away.

"Okay," I say quietly, putting my hands behind my back. "I won't touch you. I don't... I'm just... You turned around and walked out on me. You needed to be away from me. I didn't understand. You said a few minutes but you didn't come back...

And then I thought I had just been stupid... You seemed upset... but then when I saw that you took the paintings down... I just... I thought... "

He continues to stare helplessly at me, saying nothing.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know what you want. Do you want me to shut up? Do you want me to just go away? Can you help me? Please?"

"Take off the sweater."

"Okay." I pull it off and he reaches for it.

"Are you still cold?" he asks, taking it from me and crossing the room to pick up my boots from where he threw them, and walking to the closet.

"Yes," I answer, not looking. I don't want to see her.

"Go sit in front of the fire."

"Okay."

"I swear to God, Claire... if you go near that door... "

"I won't." I shake my head.

So confusing...

I go back to the living room and sit down in front of the fire just like he told me to, and hug my knees to my chest. As much as I try to ignore it, as much as I don't want to look, my eyes are pulled back to the emptiness.

I didn't know he'd come into the room and his quiet voice startles me from beside me, "It was time to let go. I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you."

I look at him now, his face is soft and apologetic, vulnerable and innocent again. He has one of his sweatshirts in his hand and he holds it up. "May I?"

I nod and he gently pulls it over my head and helps me to slip my arms through the sleeves. He pulls my hair free and gives me a sweet smile. I'm drowning in it, but I can tell by the look on his face that he thinks it's adorable. He reaches forward and grabs my legs and spins me slightly around so I'm facing him. He picks up a pair of his socks from beside him and holds them up for me to see. I nod again and he puts them on me. I giggle at how big they are on my small feet and he smiles as he rolls them over and over.

"You're so little and delicate," he says quietly, trailing his thumbs over the tops of my feet, resting them on his legs.

"Jaimin... "

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Claire. I didn't... again... I... "

"I know. I know you weren't trying to. I'm okay.

What did you mean? It was time to let go? I don't understand... "

"I know you don't. Everything... I know you misunderstood. I know you're confused. I know you're hurt, and probably scared. I know you're exhausted. All of that is my fault... but how could you misunderstand so easily? To think I don't want you? To think I don't want to see your face or hear your voice? How can it be so easy for you to forget everything I've ever said to you? Everything you know? So easy for you to just give up and leave me? Without giving me the chance to explain...

I wasn't letting go of you. I could never do that. I will never do that. You're here. You're real. I don't need that dream anymore. I don't need someone else's vision of you. I have you. You said some things that were hard for me to hear. I just needed to process it... I didn't need to get away from you... I just needed to think... without the distraction of your beautiful face... your big brown eyes looking at me with so much love... I can't think clearly when you look at me like that. I'm making so many mistakes with you. You're here and I'm fucking it all up... and you just keep forgiving me... and even if I know I've done or said something wrong... you look at me and tell me it's okay... and I let you. That's wrong. It's not okay, Claire.

It's not okay for me to hurt you. It will never be okay. It's not okay for me to tell you not to bend and then demand that you do. It's not okay to be some unpredictable storm that you have to weather and endure... just because you love me...

Love isn't supposed to hurt. Love isn't a free pass to batter and destruct and destroy the person who gives it to you. The person who's everything to you. You don't have to endure that for me. You have to stop. You have to make me stop. Help me, Claire. I'm scared. I'm terrified of breaking you.

I know you shouldn't have to... but I'm asking you. Can you help me? I don't always see... Help me see, sweetheart, before I destroy everything. You're fragile and delicate... but you're not a weak little girl. I don't see you that way. You know better than that. You're strong. You don't give in to me because you're weak. You choose. I know that. I don't have as much control over you as you try to make me think I do. You have all of the control, and you choose when to let it look like it's mine. Now you know that I know it. If I didn't find it so adorable, it would probably piss me off. And if I didn't know how hard it is for you to do it at all.

I know what you give me, and I know that sometimes it's more than you should. Even if it doesn't feel like it now, I don't want you to look at me one day and decide I took too much from you. It will kill me if I ever see that in your eyes. Don't let me take too much. Please. Because I'm not sure I can help myself. Don't let me lose you, Claire. Don't let me lose everything."

"You can't lose me, Jaimin, unless you choose to let go. That's what I thought you did. That's why I was going to leave... Not because I wanted to. Because I thought you'd decided that I didn't belong here anymore. I wanted to go before you could say it. I couldn't bear to hear what those words would sound like. Not from you."

"You'll never hear that from me. Those words don't exist. That should have never entered your mind, no matter how stupid I acted, no matter what you misunderstood. You know better.

I will never understand what goes on in that head of yours. How in a matter of a few short hours you can go from knowing I love you to to thinking I don't want you. It's inconceivable to me."

My eyes flit again to the naked space. It's taunting me. Teasing me. Laughing at me. You'll never fill it.

His voice pulls me from it's sneer, "Look at me." His eyes are pleading for understanding as I meet them. "I came in here to see things clearly. To not be distracted by your beautiful face. Your love-filled eyes. Your open and forgiving heart. Of course that's ridiculous, because your face was everywhere...

I sat and stared at it, like I've done countless times, but it was different. It didn't give me peace. Something was wrong. Something was missing. It wasn't my face. They weren't my eyes. An irrational panic took hold of me. Why couldn't I see it? There was no love. There was no trust. There was no forever. I got lost in it. Searching... I searched and searched, but couldn't find it. It just wasn't there.

I was never going to find it, because it wasn't mine.

I searched through my mind for the dream, willing it to come to me. It came, but it was wrong, too. It wasn't bright enough. It wasn't vivid enough. It wasn't good enough. It wasn't beautiful enough. It wasn't even close. It could never compete with you.

And you were right down the hall. Where I left you. Waiting for me. Everything I wanted... everything I needed was here, just feet away from me, and I was wasting time.

Your face. This face right here in front of me... that I can see... that I can touch... that smiles at me...

These eyes that bring me to my knees with the love I see in them...

This mouth... What a mouth... Nothing I ever dreamed could begin to... " He gives me an exasperated smile, not finishing the thought, and cups my face in his hands. "I let go, because I didn't need it anymore. I have you."

"You're not disappointed at all?"

"Disappointed? NO, Claire... how could you even ask me that? I am not, have never been, and could never be disappointed by you. What I am is completely and utterly derailed by you. I think you know that. I think you know it absolutely. Can you try not to forget it every time I act like a complete idiot? Can you try not to forget how much I love you? I hurt you more than enough, don't hurt yourself by creating things in your head that aren't there. Things that you know better than to ever think. Things that aren't possible.

I took the paintings down... something I should have done weeks ago, and put them away. I went to you... I felt the cold before I got there. I should have felt it long before I did... walking in there and seeing you like that... shivering... hurt on your sleeping face... hurt I caused after the beautiful thing you did...

I closed the window... I was terrified to see what you'd drawn... I knew it would kill me. It hurt so much to see what I'd done, but I knew that seeing you express it would rip me wide open. That little bird... with your eyes... crying your tears... broken...

I don't want to break you, Claire. I'm so sorry." He wraps his arms low around my waist, and buries his face in my neck and hair, pulling me into his lap. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what I can do to fix this, but I promise I'll figure it out. I promise I will."

"I can help you with that. It's easy."

He raises his head and looks at me. I smile at him and his eyes grow wary. I laugh and shake my head. "No, not that, unless... would that work?"

"That is what started all of this... " he says with a sigh, "but no, that won't work."

"I didn't think so," I say with a sigh of my own.

He looks at me with serious eyes and I give him a chaste kiss. "All you have to do is not let go."

"That's too easy. Don't you want to make me suffer?"

"No. But can I make a request?"

"You can ask for almost anything, and I'll do everything in my power to give it to you."

"I hear you. Can we sleep here tonight? Well, what's left of it. Like the first night?"

He gives me a boyish grin and nods. "But we need more blankets. Let me just go... "

"Oh no you don't... I'm coming with. I don't like watching you walk away."

"Okay, beautiful. That I understand. I promise I'll never do that to you again."

I climb from his lap and stand, holding my hand out to him. He takes it and hops to his feet, gesturing me to walk in front of him. It doesn't occur to me why until I feel him lift his sweatshirt.

"Shameless," I snicker.

"Perfect," he murmurs. "And mine."

He's back...




                                                  ~




I peel my robe off and reach up to hang it on the hook on the back of the bathroom door when I see my arm in the mirror. Crap! Deep reddish-purple bruises have formed overnight, his desperate grip vivid and alive against my pale skin. It looks... horrible. It looks so much worse than it is. What the hell am I going to do? I can't let him see this... he'd be furious that I kept it from him, but if he saw it? No. This isn't like the other one. This is bad. No way. He already knows he hurt me... I told him... I didn't hide it. I told him and he let go. Immediately. It's over. No good can come from telling him that he left a mark. Okay, a lot of marks. No... no good at all. Absolutely none. He can't see it. He just can't.

My best hope of hiding it from him is to be dressed, and I am certainly not dressed now. I shower as quickly as I can and dry off, towel dry my hair, and slip back into the robe. I wish I'd have laid my clothes out before, but there's nothing I can do about that now. I rush into the bedroom and fling open the closet doors. I don't need anything special, I'm just going to be locked up in his office all day, and I certainly don't want to look in the least bit alluring, so I grab a comfortable-yet-stylish cowl neck sweater and a pair of jeans and rush to the bureau to select some lacy goodies. Throwing it all on the bed, I start to take the robe off and I hear him.

"My timing is impeccable."

I jump at the sound of his voice and pull it tightly closed, wrapping it around myself. How could I forget to close the door?

"Startling you is becoming a regular occurrence. I'm sorry... but since I'm here... why don't you let me help you with that? Then, if you don't mind, I think I'll help myself to what's underneath."

Are you kidding me? Now? And I have to say no? I think I'm going to cry.

He starts to move towards me and I take a step back, smiling at him and shaking my head.

"No? Try again, sweetheart."

"I think you should focus on the day ahead. We're already running late... and you promised we'd get my new phone on the way to Jouissance. I'll be lonely... I'll miss you so much... I'll be unbearably sad if I can't get sweet little messages from you... "

"I have every intention of keeping my promise. Stop backing away from me, Claire."

"You don't want to disappoint all of those hungry people that are coming for lunch prepared by your brilliant hands... "

"Let me show you what else I can do with my brilliant hands. For starters."

Oh my...

Maybe I could keep the robe on my arms...

So, you're willing to keep secrets from him that you know will infuriate him while selfishly letting him indulge himself to please you? 


I really hate you right now.

"Why so shy all of the sudden? Let go of the robe."

"Jaimin... I... "

He starts to pull my hands free and my attempt to hold tight stops him. "Are you actually telling me no?"

Not because I want to... "Yes."

"Okay. That's your right."

And it's killing me...

"But tell me something... "

Uh oh.

"Why are you shaking, Claire?"

"I just don't want you to be upset with me."

"Look at me when I talk to you."

Please, face... I am begging you...

"You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

"No. Of course not... "

"I think you are."

"No... "

"Or hiding something from me."

"I'm pretty sure you've seen everything."

"Do I look amused by your smart mouth, Claire?"

"No."

"Direct questions seem to work best with you. Are you hiding something from me?"

"Please... I don't... "

"Answer the question I asked you."

I can't lie to him. "Yes. But... "

"Yes was all I needed. I'm not interested in your excuses."

"Jaimin... "

"So, you've denied me, lied to me, and you're hiding something from me."

"I didn't lie to you."

"We'll get your phone as promised, but I wouldn't expect any sweet messages from me today. Get dressed."

"Please don't be angry with me."

"I can't trust you. I'm not sure angry fully describes what I'm feeling."

What? Can't trust me? Oh... this isn't what I wanted at all. "That's not true. Please don't say that."

He turns to walk away with an expression I've never seen on his face before. An expression I never want to see again.

"Please don't walk away from me. You promised... "

He stops but doesn't turn around.

"I made a mistake. I didn't want you to get upset... that's the only reason... and now... "

He turns now, angry and irritated, "Get upset about what? What was so damn important that it was worth breaking my trust for?"

I give up. I have to show him. It can't be worse than this. I start to open the robe with trembling hands and his eyes narrow. He's about to yell at me again when he sees it. He walks towards me and I look down, I can't bear the pain and regret I see in his eyes at what he's done.

"That's why," I whisper, "I didn't want to see you look like that."

He takes my arm gently in his hands, holding it out, turning it, examining it closely. His hands are shaking, his voice trembling as he speaks. "Claire... you can't hide something like this from me. You can't. I understand that you don't want to see me hurt... but this... I hurt you. I really hurt you. I... I don't... I can't...

How can you even let me touch you? Of course you said no... "

"I said no because I didn't want you to see it, not because I didn't want you to touch me. There were a lot of misunderstandings last night... a lot of hurt feelings... a lot of irrational fear. We're both at fault for that. We both got thrashed around in that storm... "

"Don't. Don't try to say it's okay. Look at what I did to you! The only person that got thrashed around was you! Look at what I did, Claire! It's not okay! You saw it, and the only thing you cared about was trying to protect me from seeing it! That is seriously fucked!"

"Please calm down. I know it looks bad, but it really doesn't hurt. It's a little tender, that's all. I swear that's the truth. I'm sorry that I tried to hide it from you. I just... "

"Do not apologize to me."

"But..."

"I'm not happy about what you tried to do, but I will not stand here and look at your battered body, battered by me, and listen to you tell me that you're sorry. Don't."

"Battered? That's a bit extreme, don't you think? It's a couple of bruises on my arm. Bruises that we both know you didn't mean to put there. There's no damage done. Please don't make this more than it is. I know you feel terrible, I understand that, but... "

"Stop."

"Please... "

"No." He walks to the bureau and pulls a camisole from the drawer, tossing it on the bed with the rest of my clothes. "Put that on under the sweater. Get dressed and dry your hair. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. I have a few phone calls to make, I'll just be in the other room. Come out when you're finished."

There's so many things I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. I don't want to upset him any more than he already is. I get ready as quickly as I can, applying a touch more makeup than usual, the lack of sleep and tearful night showing itself miserably on my face.

He's leaning against the door as I come out of the hallway. He has my coat in his hands and my bag is already waiting on the table by the door. I put the two sketchbooks I'm carrying down, and let him help me on with my coat.

"It's cold today," he murmurs, as he turns me gently around to fasten the buttons. A scowl forms on his face as he looks at me and he tilts my chin up. "You don't need all of that. I don't like it."

"Okay. Would you like me to go wash my face?"

"No. Let's just go, we have another stop to make."

I don't ask where. I pick up my bag and sketchbooks and let him lead me out the door and to his truck. He glances at me often, but doesn't say anything during the drive. My mind is a scatter of thoughts and I don't realize where we're going until he pulls in to the drive of his parents' house. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes briefly before getting out and coming to open my door. He holds his hand out to me and I take it, and jump down. He doesn't drop my hand as we walk up the steps and to the front door. He opens it without knocking and pulls me inside. Aricin is there just as we enter the foyer, and greets me warmly with a kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you for waiting, Dad. I know you were on your way out."

"Your mother said you wanted to talk to us and it was important. She said you sounded upset. Is everything alright?"

"No."

Caressa comes down the staircase with worry all over her face. "Oh, darling, what's wrong?"

My breath catches slightly as she pulls us both into a hug, unknowingly crushing the tender part of my arm. He looks at me with a broken expression and pulls me from her embrace.

Caressa's face is confused, "What did I do? Claire, are you hurt?"

I smile and shake my head at her. Jaimin clears his throat and looks at me and I know. He came here to tell them. I shake my head at him but he only looks down and busies himself with the buttons of my coat.

"Actually, Mom, she is."

No. He can't do this. What is he thinking?

"Oh no! Well, darling, let's get you off of your feet. Jaimin, bring her to the couch. Now, tell me what happened, Claire, you were fine last night."

"Really, I'm fine. Don't listen to him, he's exaggerating, it's just a bruise."

"I can imagine why he would worry. Your lovely skin is so fair, the littlest bruise must look dreadful against it. Did you fall?"

"She didn't fall."

My eyes plead with him not to do this, but he turns his gaze from me to his father. They lock eyes for a moment, and then Aricin looks at me intently. He glances at his son once more before coming to kneel before me where I now sit on the couch, Jaimin perched on the edge beside me.

"May I see?"

He knows.

"It's nothing," I murmur quietly.

"I'd like to see, Claire."

I reach for Jaimin's hand, and he takes mine in his, but uses the opportunity to hold it while he reaches under my sweater carefully with the other and frees my arm. This is why he told me to wear the camisole.

Caressa gasps loudly and covers her mouth, her eyes wide.

Aricin leans up and cradles my arm in his hands, taking a closer look.

"Tell them it's nothing," I whisper to him. "Please."

"I can't do that. It's not nothing."

"Intense people sometimes have intense moments. He was overcome. For a moment. You said you understood that."

He sighs and gives my hand a gentle squeeze and places it in my lap. He pulls a heavy wooden table from beside the couch to in front of us and sits on it. "Tell me what happened."

"Isn't it obvious?" Caressa screeches, coming closer. "Do you not see that that's his hand print on her? Jaimin, how could you?"

Aricin puts his hand up and it shocks me that it silences her. "And he's clearly distraught over it. As unsettling as it is to see, they're here. Give him some credit for that."

She nods, but hasn't taken her eyes from my arm. I slip it back into my sleeve, the elephant in the room at least covered up. She comes to sit on the other side of me and grabs my hand. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

"Are there others?"

"NO."

Apparently my answer isn't enough to satisfy them. They exchange a look and Aricin turns to Jaimin for truth he's not sure I'll give.

"No. That's more than enough."

"I agree, son. I'm glad that's all. Has it happened before?"

"No."

I feel all of their eyes on me.

"Well, that I was aware of."

Damn face.

"Claire."

"It was hardly noticeable."

His voice is tight, "When?"

I look at Caressa. She understands.

"The day I was there."

"Yes. And you know how innocent that was."

Tighter still, "And you hid it from me."

"Like I said, it was hardly noticeable."

"Not the point."

Aricin steps in, "She told me about that. What caused it and how the situation was brought under control. What was the reason this time?"

"She was leaving. I grabbed her... harder than I realized. Much harder... too hard... I didn't mean to... I just didn't want her to leave... "

"And how was the realization made?"

My turn. "I told him and he let go. He didn't hesitate for a second. This is ridiculous. Please... I understand why he's upset, but it's nothing. It's over. I'm not broken, I'm not hurt, and he shouldn't be torturing himself like this. Nor should he be put on trial like this. I don't like it. I want it to stop."

"We're not putting him on trial, Claire. We just want to understand what happened. No one here wants it to happen again, him most of all. I can see that you're upset about this, but if he didn't care about you so much, he wouldn't have come here. He doesn't want to hurt you. He's just trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting from him. I thought you understood."

"I do, but what I told you was that I wasn't concerned as long as you felt safe."

Jaimin is looking back and forth between us, and speaks just as I'm about to answer. "When was this conversation?"

"The first night you brought me here. Outside in your truck."

He nods his head, but doesn't say anything else. I turn back to Aricin, "I do feel safe. That hasn't changed."

Caressa is shockingly quiet beside me. It makes me nervous, like waiting for a volcano to erupt, stuck helplessly in the impending lava's path.

Aricin is watching me thoughtfully, "I want to ask you something. And I want you to think carefully before you answer. Don't give me the automatic, think about what's really true. It may be hard, but it's important. Will you do that?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Will you answer honestly?"

Jaimin picks up my hand and places it gently in his. It's a plea for truth.

"Yes."

"He said you were leaving?"

"It was a misunderstanding. It was my fault."

"Are you going to take responsibility for everything, Claire?"

"No," I say defensively, "It was my fault. I jumped to a ridiculous conclusion and wouldn't give him the chance to explain it to me. He's not to blame for that. And if I could just say something before you continue... he's not perfect, I do know that, but I can be a complete brat sometimes. Don't think he always has it easy."

He gives me a small smile. "I can see how that may be possible. But, Claire... easy or not, he has to maintain a careful amount of self control with you. He can't not realize. That's dangerous for both of you."

"He wouldn't hurt me."

"He did hurt you."

"Not intentionally."

"I know that. I don't doubt that for a second. But this brings me to my point. This is where it will get hard for you. His trigger involves losing you in some way. Any way. Caressa trying to pull you from his grip... You trying to leave. You say he wouldn't hurt you. You say you feel safe. That may be true. You may believe that. While you're where he wants you. But what if you truly wanted to leave?"

Tightening.

"I don't. I'm not just where he wants me. I'm where I want to be."

"You're not answering my question."

"I did."

"No. What if you truly wanted to leave him?"

Crushing.


Pain.

"Ow. Jaimin... "

Aricin reaches over and pulls my hand from his unconsciously crushing grip. It takes both hands, but he frees it. He's looking at it now, bending all of my fingers.

"I'm fine. You've made your point."

Jaimin leans forward, burying his face in his hands. I pull my hand from it's unnecessary examination and place it on his back.

"Please don't," he whispers.

I frown and let it fall to the couch between us.

"You still haven't answered my question, Claire."

"I'm not going to."

"I think you should. I think you need to. I think you need to say it out loud and he needs to hear it."

"For Christ's sake, Dad, what are you trying to do?"

"I know this is hard for both of you, but I'm trying to help you. It's why you came here. I know that wasn't easy. And you wouldn't be here if you weren't scared. You need to hear her answer. But maybe you should hear it from across the room."

He turns to look at me and picks up my hand again like it's the most fragile thing in the world. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly before placing it in my lap and standing.

"No," I say, shaking my head and reaching for him.

He strokes my cheek with his thumb as he pulls my hand from his pants, which is all I could grab when Caressa tried to hold me back. "I want you to answer him. And until I can trust myself, I don't want you in my reach when I hear it."

"I trust you."

"Too much," he sighs, crossing the room. "Do this for me? Please?"

"I can't answer that question. I'm never going to want to leave."

"It's just an if, Claire," Aricin insists.

"What do you want me to say? What's the magic answer you're all waiting for? Do you want me to say I'd be afraid? Do I think he'd hurt me if I tried to leave him? Would I feel safe if I wanted to go? I don't know! I don't think he'd ever let me leave!"

I regret it the second the words are out of my mouth.

I regret the words.

I regret what they imply.

I regret the tone I spoke them in.

Screamed them in.

But more than anything, I regret the look they've put on his beautiful face.

I want to make it go away. I get up and walk purposefully to where he is, and grab the hand he puts up in protest, my voice soft, "It doesn't matter. Ifs are kind of like dreams, they're not real. Ifs are I don't knows. Ifs are could bes and maybes and maybe nots. They're hazy and foggy and unsettled. I don't live my life by ifs. Ifs aren't solid. I don't love you with ifs. There's no if in my heart. And I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of what you could do to me if I tried to leave you, because that will never happen. I won't ever leave. I won't ever want to leave. My last stop. I had to run to get to you, but Jaimin... they let me go. I got confused last night. I got hurt and confused and let my crazy head tell my feet to move. You didn't let me go. You didn't just stand there and let me leave the place I belong. You stopped me. I'm not afraid of that. I'd be afraid if I thought you wouldn't."

 "I'm sorry."

"I know. I don't want it to happen again."

His face contorts with sorrow and guilt and I know he's misinterpreted my words.

"No... listen to me. Not because you hurt me - and I'm not saying it's okay - but because of why. Not because I'm afraid... because you are. Your fear of losing me hurts me far more than any physical pain you could inflict by trying to hold on to me. You have to stop being afraid. You won't stop hurting me until you do that. I wish I knew what I could give you to make that fear fall away. I'd give it to you. I'd give you anything. But I don't know what that is. I don't know what you need. If you know, please tell me. Just ask. I won't deny you. I promise."

"You. I need you."

"Already yours."

"But would you give yourself to me again?"

"Yes. Is that what you need? To know that I would again? To know that I would now?"

He nods with the most beautiful, innocent expression on his face. Vulnerable.

"Yes. A thousand times. Ten thousand times. How ever many days are in forever. Today. Tomorrow. Every day. No matter how chaotic the storm. No matter how infuriating the arrogant bastard, and believe me, he is. The answer will always be yes. I want you to add that to your notes."

He lifts our joined hands and presses mine gently to his face. "I love you."

"I know."

He looks over my head and a boyish grin appears on his face. "They know, too."

I turn and his parents have moved to sit together, their hands entwined, fear and worry turned for the moment to simple understanding and love as they watch us. And perhaps a bit of awe. They do know.

Caressa begins to speak and I brace myself for the eruption, but it doesn't come. "Just keep talking to him, Claire. He hears you. I'll still worry, I think we both will, but your voice... the words you speak to him... they're his peace. As long as he can hear you, you'll both be safe."

I smile at her understanding.

"And Claire? Don't forget to listen."

Jaimin chuckles and gives my hair a gentle tug and she scowls at him. It only makes him chuckle harder as he pulls me along to where they sit.

"Mom, if you keep making that face, it might stick and then you'll just look angry all of the time. You're far too pretty for that."

"I believe I told you that many times about the smirk that so often lives on yours. And don't forget, you got most of your pretty from me."

"Now, Caressa, in all fairness... I'm pretty sure he got that smirk from you, too."

Her mouth drops open and Jaimin and Aricin burst out laughing. She narrows her eyes at me and the infamous Guillory smirk appears unstoppable on her face.

"My point exactly," I say with a satisfied smile.

"You are a smart-mouthed little brat, aren't you?"

Jaimin gives an exasperated sigh, "You have no idea... "



                                             ~


I'm back in my cell, trying to figure out my new phone. The storm raged furiously when I wanted to transfer my contacts. The storm won. My list is comprised only of his, his parents - home and each of their cells - the Bouchards - daughter not included, not that I don't know it, and not that I care - and Emilie. He knows of my plan to rescue her when I figure out what I'm doing. And he feels sorry for her, even though the Bouchards try to keep Nadine away from her - and stopped her from firing her - she's unhappy. He even offered to give her a job here if she wanted until I had something to offer her.

There's a knock on his office door. He would never knock, I can't imagine who else it would be. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, Claire, but something came for you."

I get up and open the door, recognizing Marie's voice. She stands holding a bouquet of roses. Black roses. I don't doubt for a second who they're from. Why would she bring them to me?

"Interesting, but still beautiful. I've never seen roses this color before."

Because she doesn't know.

"Marie, does Jaimin know about these?"

"Well, he was in the kitchen when they came, but I assumed he sent them, so I just brought them to you. I figured if he wanted to hand them to you himself, he wouldn't have had them delivered."

I take them from her with a forced smile, knowing I'll probably never see her again.

"I know it's probably personal, and tell me if I'm out of line to ask, but does the color mean something?"

"Depends on the sender, I suppose."

She takes my response as dismissive and excuses herself. I feel sorry for her that she'll get fired for simply being innocent. Maybe I can plead her case. Not that it will do any good.

I sit them down on the floor, it doesn't seem right to put them on his desk, and look through the menacing bouquet for a card. I know I shouldn't, I should just tell him now, but I want to see how angry he is. I find it and read his words.

You know about colors. You know about depth. You know how I feel about you. Feelings that deep don't die, but they can bleed. They can turn and twist and slice through you like the blade of a knife. They can change you. You should be more careful with them than you are with your colors. They're getting ugly, Claire. Something so beautiful shouldn't be mutilated. But it can.


I drop the card to the floor and my fingers are trembling as I type my message.
C: When you're not busy, could you come to your office, please?

J: I'm not busy if you need me.

C: I need you.

It seems only seconds before he's through the door. He takes one look at me and rushes to put his arms around me. "Even with all of that stuff on your face, you're white as a ghost, what's wrong?"

I point to the floor where the flowers lay mocking me with their sinister blooms, the card beside them where it fell from my hand.

He picks up the card and I see the darkness take over. "Where the fuck did this come from?"

"She said it was delivered... "

"She? And she brought it to you? She is about to feel a wrath of fury that will haunt her for the rest of her life!"

"She didn't know... she said she'd never seen that color before... it's not her fault... she thought you sent them... she just... "

"Don't open this door for anyone else! No one! Do you understand me?"

"Yyyyes," I manage to stutter out, as he grabs the flowers from the floor and storms out, slamming the door. I hear his keys and watch the turn of the lock and am left with silence. I know he's not done with me, the storm will come back to thrash me for reading...

A shiver runs through me as I see the words again in my mind. This is what fear feels like. This is what it feels like not to feel safe. This is what it feels like to know someone would hurt you. Someone that says they love you. Someone that let go but can't. I wished him happiness. He wants to take mine. He wants me to feel pain. He wants me to bleed.

No.

He doesn't get that power.

I have everything.

He can't take it from me.

Jaimin won't let him hurt me.

He'd never let him take anything from me.

I have to stop giving.

I shouldn't have read it.

I shouldn't have let it frighten me.

I shouldn't have let him in to the safety Jaimin has wrapped me in.

I shouldn't have let him disturb the calm.

I shouldn't have let his words take our peace.

Our peace.

It never seems to last very long.

Are we ever just going to have a calm, peaceful day?

I smile at the thought of my beautiful, chaotic storm, and say a silent prayer that we will, and head to his private bathroom. Oh, my arrogant, pretentious love... this place belongs in a palace. Well, your Queen is going to wash her face in her King's sink. Two mentions of  'all of that' is more than enough for me. I'm not even wearing that much, nothing close to the made up faces of his former harem...

Jesters? No, they're not funny. Made up like jesters, though. Sort of. Pretty ones.

Hmmm... Maybe they need it. Maybe they look like trolls without it. The thought makes me laugh. Well, guess what, whores? The little doll doesn't. And guess what else? He wastes nothing. Check and mate!

I turn off the water and bring the soft towel to my still-smiling face, and my eyes meet his in the mirror. I jump, startled again, and then he's behind me. He turns me to face him and takes the towel from my hand, gently dabbing my dripping face.

"Sorry. I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but whatever it is, I'm glad something can make you smile."

"You," I beam at him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. And your generosity."

"I think I'll leave that alone, for now. But this," he drops the towel on the counter top and cups my face in his hands, "is much better. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry."

"No, Claire. I'm sorry. You needed me. You were afraid, and all I did was scream at you and storm out. I shouldn't have done that. I'm very sorry."

"I knew you'd be back. At least to yell at me again. But you don't have to. I shouldn't have read it. I should have given it to you without looking at it. You want me to feel safe, and you do everything you can to do that for me. I shouldn't have let him take that away, even for a second. That wasn't fair to you. I am sorry. I don't want to make it harder for you. I promise I understand now."

"What can I do to take your fear away, sweetheart? I know you're trying to put on a brave face for me, but it's there. I see it."

"Face... he wants to mutilate my face... "

"Claire... "

"That's what he meant. You know that, don't you? As much as he couldn't help but want me, my face was the only thing about me that he ever thought was beautiful. He said I was sweet sometimes, but most of the time he just said I was wicked and spoiled and selfish and that I used my beautiful face to get away with all of the rest of me that was ugly. Now he wants to ruin it. He wants to take away the only part of me he thinks is beautiful so you won't want me anymore. He knows it's different with you. He knows I'm capable of feeling pain now. He wants to hurt me... "

"Listen to me. He's not going to hurt you. Please put that out of your mind. I won't let him. Not your beautiful face. Not any beautiful part of you. And, Claire, that's everything. There's nothing about you that's ugly. He shouldn't have said those things to you. He wanted your heart. I don't have to ask you to know that you didn't give it to him. That hurt him. He tried to hurt you back with childish words. Words he clearly didn't mean, because he didn't go anywhere. He didn't leave you. Whatever you were, he wanted you. He took whatever you were willing to give him until you wouldn't anymore. Until you left.

I don't need to know why you left him, I don't care. You didn't belong there. You belong here. And you're right... I'll never let you leave. I'll never let go, but I promise you, I will learn how to hold on to you gently. And I will always want you. He can't change that. He does know it's different. He knows you gave me something you never gave him. He knows I have your heart. He knows I have all of you. He knows you've given me everything. What he doesn't know is that I'll do anything to keep it. I'll do anything to keep it safe. I'll do anything to keep it beautiful. And not just your face, sweetheart. He thinks that's the most beautiful part of you because he's never seen your love. He's never felt it.

I have. And it's the most beautiful thing about you. It's sweet and selfless and you give it to me with so much trust... I will protect it. I will protect you, Claire, with everything I am, everything I have, for the rest of my life."

"Our life, Mr. Guillory. I'm going to start insisting that you carry your notebook with you. And I know you will. I'm not afraid. You took it away."

"Good," he says softly, tilting my face up and brushing his lips against mine, "and I am shamefully corrected. Our life, indeed." His kiss becomes more purposeful, his lips dominant and possessive between his words, "Now... as for my notes... which I will update when we get home... is there any one in particular that you'd like me to refer to?"

His thumbs and fingertips trail lightly up and down my neck and throat as his mouth makes promise after promise of a beautiful, yet chaotic life.

"They're all important," I murmur, pulling back to look into his eyes. If I had the courage, I'd tell him. I'd tell him exactly the one I want most, but I'm not brave enough. Not right now. Instead, I give him a devious smile. "That door looks pretty sturdy."

"So says your naughty little mouth. Your eyes gave me a different answer."

Of course they did. I look down, focusing on the buttons of his shirt, suddenly too shy to look at him. Promises of love, promises of forever, promises of never leaving and never letting go... they're all real and beautiful and meant wholeheartedly... I don't have the right to want more. It's only been... It's irrational. He makes me want things I've never wanted, things I've never thought about. Desperate for them.

"Look at me."

I can't. I shake my head.

"Are you afraid of what you'll see?"

I nod this time.

"Are you so afraid that you're willing to risk my pretty little ass by continuing not to answer me?"

I pout, but nod again.

"I see. What if I told you that I was ready to give you what your mouth asked for, but I won't unless you look at me?"

Hello? My eyes fly to his and he chuckles arrogantly. No, not chuckles... that doesn't even come close. He is laughing. Hard. It's cruel, really.

"You, my beautiful girl, are shameless."

"You're mean."

"But you love me."

"I'd love you more if you rattled that door."

"If you lived through it," he smirks.

"I'm not as breakable as you think I am, but by all means, you arrogant bastard, please try to kill me. Please."

"So brave... "

"Yes, Sir."

He grabs my face so quickly, and so fiercely that I fall off balance and have to grab his arms to steady myself. His eyes bore into mine and I couldn't look away if I wanted to, which I absolutely do not.

"You should never be afraid to look at me, Claire. My eyes will never deny you. Nothing you could ever see in them could hurt you. You're afraid of the only part of me that I know can't. I wanted you to look at me because I wanted you to see. I wanted you to see how happy the want in your eyes made me. I promise you I'll never ask you to look at something that will break your heart. You can't want too much from me, because there's nothing you can't have. I want to give you everything. I will give you everything. I was just waiting for you to want it. I saw, sweetheart."

I robbed myself of seeing it, but he gives it to me now. He doesn't punish me. He doesn't hold back. He gives and gives and doesn't stop until I understand.

This is what Caressa meant.

Don't forget to listen. 

If I had listened last night, if I had listened a few moments ago, so many times...

Moment after moment floods my mind.

Misunderstandings.

Hurt feelings.

Irrational tears and fears.

All because I didn't listen.

"What are you thinking? Why do you look sad?"

"How patient you really are... I never realized... but you are. How did I not see it? You... I'm a complete brat... I am positively a pain in the ass and I can't fathom how or why you put up with me."

He laughs and strokes his thumbs across my cheeks. "You're adorable."

"Jaimin, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I give you stress."

"You give me joy."

"I'm stubborn."

"It amuses me. And you always listen eventually."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

"Does that make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Would it make you happier if I listened to you with less encouragement?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I can do that."

He raises a brow, "You can?"

"Yes."

"What's the catch?"

"No catch," I say sweetly, "I just want to show my appreciation for all of your patience."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"I can think of another way you could show me your appreciation."

"Name it."

"Come with me."

He flips the light switch and takes my hand, leading me back into his office. He walks to the plush leather couch and sits down, a playful grin on his face. "Come down here."

Yes, Sir! I drop to my knees between his legs and his mouth drops open. I rub my hands slowly up his legs and just as I get to his belt he grabs them. "I meant down here on the couch."

"You did?" I ask innocently.

"Yes, I did. Now, get up here."

"I'm really quite comfortable down here. You should let go of my hands so I can make you comfortable. And show my appreciation."

"You're killing me."

"I promise it won't hurt."

"I won't be able to make that same promise if you don't GET UP HERE."

I pout at him sadly and he narrows his eyes at me.

"NOW."

I get up to sit next to him, but he pulls me into his lap. "I thought you were going to listen?"

"I got confused... Your eyes were giving me a different answer than your mouth. You always say I should trust what I see there... "

"I'm not above temptation, Claire. I'm only human. I'd appreciate it greatly if you didn't try to break what little will I have left."

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad. A little frustrated is all."

"So let me take it away."

"That's not what I meant, not that it isn't true. And NO."

"Okay. I don't want to frustrate you. But I don't understand the rules."

"What don't you understand?"

"Why you get to indulge and I don't?"

"They're my rules."

"Break them."

"No."

"Stubborn. So, what did you want?"

"Your mouth has been very sweet today. Mostly. I wanted to feel it."

"But... "

He puts his finger to my lips to silence me and then taps his own.

He wants sweet.

"That's all?"

He nods and smiles at me.

Okay. I can be sweet.

I cup his face gently in my hands and begin to trail tender kisses over his features, my eyes never leaving his. He sighs contentedly and his hands move to thread through my hair. He doesn't pull or try to control my movements in any way, just holds my head in his hands as I try to give him what he wanted. I brush my lips lightly against his and he smiles, his eyes blazing with love. His breathing picks up pace through his slightly parted lips and tickles my face. I lower my eyes and flutter my lashes across his soft lips and his breath catches, making me smile.

"Do that again," he whispers.

I repeat the gentle flutter and his breath catches again. His eyes are closed when I look up at him. Such a simple thing... an innocent and playful thing... I'm awed that it has such an effect on my pillar of strength. His hands begin to move slowly through my hair, and with the slightest pressure, guides my mouth to his. He doesn't do anything else, his lips don't move against mine. He waits. He wants me to give it to him. I nip gently at his mouth with my lips and he moans softly.

The intimacy of this moment is overwhelming. His surrender of control. His vulnerable and pure need for sweetness. Gentle affection. Simple adoration and tenderness from the one who loves him. The sacrifice of his own wants and desires. The will it must truly take to keep them under control. I wish I understood why he needs to. The reasons he gave before no longer valid against what we are to each other now. I just don't understand. What is he afraid of? Why does he hold himself back from what I know he wants? The want I can feel beneath me. That he's not hiding from me.

He's trusting me.

And looking at me. "Your mind is elsewhere."

"No. It's here. And I promise you it's on you," I murmur softly, stroking my fingertips over his face. "Can we freeze time? Just make it stop? Make everything go away and leave us alone? Just for a little while?"

He smiles at me and as if in answer to my impossible request, just at that moment the phone on his desk rings with a resounding no.

I start to climb off of him and he pulls me back in place. "Not until I've had my kiss."

I take his face in my hands once again and lower my mouth to his. Slowly, tenderly, sweetly, our lips seem to melt together and for this moment, at least, the world that exists beyond us simply disappears. I no longer hear the shrill ringing of the phone. I listen, but the only sound is of the gentle beating of hearts that have found their peace.

Clear and Bright: Chapter Sixteen: Broken Wing

                                             
                                             
I have been imprisoned. I sit in my posh cell--Jaimin's office at Jouissance--and doodle purposefully into my sketchbook. Poor Michel has been mercilessly attacked by a terrible case of the flu, and Jaimin was no longer confident that things were under control here without him. It makes me smile to know how valuable Michel really is to him. I wonder if he knows...


I'm not happy about being locked up, but his eyes lit up the second we walked through the doors, and that was worth my confinement. He loves this, and he's been away far too long because of me. I hung out in the kitchen with him for a while, but as much as he seemed to like it, his staff did not appear as pleased. I told him I felt in the way and I saw the hopeful expressions on their faces that he might let me leave. He saw them too. They may have resented that I was keeping their boss away--maybe--but having him back and pissed...

I tried to play hostess for a while, which he thought was adorable, and made him smile like a child on Christmas morning... until a group of gentlemen patrons were trying to share in his joy, which he saw, of course, because once I was out of his sight, he came to check on me every five minutes. Needless to say, my career as a hostess ended abruptly. And people think Hell's Kitchen  is entertaining...

So here I am, imprisoned in my impossibly overprotective, overbearing, arrogant bastard's lair. Of course he wouldn't let me leave, even though I promised to go straight home and stay there until he called me to pick him up. The answer was no. I batted my eyelashes at him and tried another approach to gaining freedom and said I wanted to go shopping, thinking he might not deny me wanting to be spoiled...  he said I could have anything I wanted and turned on his computer, dropping his credit card on the desk. So not what I meant! I did order something, though... I found a fun little online shop and ordered a pair of handcuffs covered in faux chocolate-brown fur and had them sent to him.

And being the smart ass that I am, I then called a designer friend of mine and asked her to make me a sexy little prisoner outfit, with very little shorts, in chocolate and cream pinstripes in some sinfully soft material. She was only too happy to do it, thrilled that 'sweet little Claire' had apparently discovered her inner naughty. I trusted her to make something fabulous, and she knows my measurements like the back of her hand, so I told her to just send it to him when it was finished. Of course she nearly had a stroke when I told her who he was, which nearly gave me one, but she assured me she'd never had the pleasure. I told her I hadn't yet either... near-stroke number two at his restraint, but once she recovered she promised to do her best to help me out with that. Then she said she'd pray for me, but if her prayers failed and her design didn't, that she promised I'd be laid to rest in something magnificent when he could no longer resist and it killed me. The man certainly has a reputation.

I'm wondering if I should actually be afraid, and laughing because even if I should, I'm not, when my phone alerts me to a text. The fact that I am even in possession of my phone is in itself a huge battle won for me. He never did let me see the messages I had received, or the ones since, but I didn't push. I check it now and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I see that it's from Jaimin.

J : What are you doing, beautiful?

Since ten minutes ago when you last checked on me?
C : Digging an escape tunnel.

J : NOT funny.

C : That's up to interpretation. I have to do something, I maxed out your credit card an hour ago, and I was bored. For someone with very deep pockets, your limit was no match for me. I'm rather disappointed.

J : If that were true, I have other cards which I would be more than happy to let you indulge yourself with, but since I know it's not, unfortunately for your MY pretty little ass, you have just lied to me. Twice, in fact, as I also know there is no tunnel. This is unfortunate for you, because your implication of digging said escape tunnel means you intended to run away from me. You're in deep shit, sweetheart. You're going to wish you were in prison by the time I get through with you.

Crap. Really didn't think any of that through...
C : I'm going to tell your mommy you're being mean to me.

J : Okay, my sweet *cough* , scared little girl... then I won't EVER lay a hand on you. Or anything else. Don't say I never give you your way.

Craaaaaaap! How did this go so wrong?
C : I was kidding. *crying* I didn't mean it. I'm not going to tell her anything but how sweet and wonderful and kind and forgiving you are.

J : More lies. You are determined to test my stamina... my poor, pretty little ass. I think I may cry now, too.

C : I love you.

J : Thank you, but sucking up won't help you now.

C : Okay, you don't like up. How do you feel about down?

That's probably going to get me in even more trouble, but how much worse can it get than deep shit? Why is it taking him so long to respond?

I wait a few more minutes, but still nothing. Maybe he just got busy. Back to my drawing it is... It's me, behind bars, gripping them helplessly, big sad eyes and pout in place. I even did some mirror research, ensuring I got the pout just right, since he sees it so often. Not bad, if I do say so myself. It should get me a little leniency, even I think it's kind of adorable.

I'm pulled from my self-inspired awww moment by my phone. Let's see how much trouble I'm in now...

It's incredibly rude of you to continue to ignore me. I know you can be self-centered, but you used to at least have manners. You also used to sleep in your own bed. Alone. I was patient. A year, and still all I got were sweet good night kisses before you pushed me out the door at a respectable hour. I didn't complain, though, did I? No. Well, you know what, baby? I don't think there's much sweet about you anymore, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. To be completely honest, it pisses me the fuck off! You've seen me mad, Claire. I never would have thought it possible to be angry with you, but as you've proven, THINGS CHANGE.

I was so sure it was Jaimin, I didn't even consider it might not be. Just at that moment, his office door flies open and scares the hell out of me. He sees that he startled me and sees my open phone and I know he knows. The cocky smirk he was wearing instantly disappears as he comes to me and takes it from my trembling hand. He doesn't look at it yet, placing it face down on the desk, his worried eyes focused on me.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm sorry," I say softly, looking up at him and reaching for his hand. "You tried to tell me... I should have listened to you... "

"You don't have to be sorry, sweetheart, you didn't do anything." He squeezes my hand and lets it go to lift me from the chair and sit, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me.

"I thought it was you."

"What?" he asks, stroking his hand up and down my back.

"The message... I thought it was you."

"I know, I'm sorry. I wanted to answer that last one in person... I'm sorry it took me so long."

"He's different... angry... is that why you haven't been letting me see?"

His jaw tenses and he reaches for the phone, no longer able to ignore it. I watch him and his eyes blaze with fury as he reads it, then he pushes a few buttons and I know it's gone.

"Jaimin, I'm not trying to upset you, but I wanted to forward that to Loring... "

"I won't let anything happen to you, Claire."

"I know that, I do, but I just think he should know that Leal is getting... "

"I agree with you, sweetheart. Let me take care of it, okay?"

"Okay."

"And I'm getting you a new phone. New number. This one stays in my possession from now. I'm not asking you."

I'm not going to fight with him now, it would do me no good. "Okay."

"I don't want you to worry about it. I don't want you to be afraid. I'd never let him hurt you. Try not to think about it. Can you do that? Try to put it out of your head? Please, for me?"

I nod my head, and look at my drawing on the desk. "I know you need to be here, and I know you need to know where I am at all times... I understand that, but please don't lock me up in here. I'll go crazy... please."

He follows my eyes and picks up the sketchbook, a smile forming on his lips. "I'm sorry you feel like a prisoner, but you are positively the most adorable thing I have ever seen."

"Adorable needs to breathe. There's no air in here. I'll suffocate."

He knows I don't mean it literally. I know he understands, but I know just as surely that I have no chance of freedom. His eyes give me my answer without him saying a word.

"I need you safe, Claire. The only way I can be sure that you are is if you're with me."

"I understand."

"Please don't sound so sad, it's breaking my heart."

"At least this time I know my jailer isn't trying to forget I exist."

The pain in his eyes is unmistakable. My little pity party is hurting him, and he only wants to protect me. I feel like a complete jerk. It doesn't escape me that I'm starting to be aware of my own self-centered behavior, aware because of him. He thinks I make him a better person, but I think he may have that backwards.

I see him struggling through his pain for me for the right words. I don't want him to struggle with anything, he has more than enough. I take the sketchbook from his hand and lay it on the desk, and reposition myself to straddle his lap, rolling my eyes as his hands move instantly to my hips.

I put my hands around the back of his neck and smile. "And I'm pretty sure he'll never forget to feed me."

"Never. To either."

"I do love you, I wasn't just trying to suck up."

"I know."

"I'm glad you know."

"Me too."

"So.... since I'm positively the most adorable thing you've ever seen, does that mean I'm not in trouble anymore?"

"One has nothing to do with the other."

I frown and he smirks at me. I look up at him as sweetly as I can, "Don't you feel sorry for me? Even a little?"

"I feel sorry for my pretty little ass. Really sorry."

"You know... you're so very busy already...  brilliant chef, restaurateur, and vintner... adoring, perfect boyfriend... marshmallow architect... master and commander of all things Claire and Jouissance - together and separately... " I pause and give an appreciative sigh for effect. "You deserve a break. Surely you shouldn't have the tedious responsibilities of judge, jury, and executioner added to your already full plate. You'll be positively exhausted. It will worry me so... my poor, sweet, tired baby... " I stroke his face, drowning my own with exaggerated worry and concern.

"Master and commander? God, I love you... "

"Is that the only thing you heard?"

"It's definitely my favorite part, but I believe I also heard brilliant and perfect."

"Which you are."

"Sucking up still won't help you."

"Didn't you say you came here to talk to me about that?"

"I did."

"I'm all ears. And mouth."

"You're a brave little thing."

"I am," I say with a suggestive raise of my brows.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and replies in a pleading voice, "You have got to stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing."

"I know. That's why you need to stop."

"Are you weakening, Mr. Guillory? Is there a chink in your armor?"

"Your master and commander admits no weakness."

"I really need to learn when to shut up... "

"Oh, I disagree."

"I'm not calling you that."

"We'll see."

"You wish."

We're both laughing when the phone on his desk rings. I reach behind me and pick it up and put it to his ear.

He nods at me to put it back. "Your dinner companions have arrived, beautiful."

"My dinner companions?"

"Yes. I should be able to join you to eat, but my parents will keep you company while I prepare heaven. Is that okay?"

"Of course. I look forward to talking about you behind your back."

"Maybe I didn't think this through... "

"Welcome to my world."


                                                     ~



Dinner with his parents went off without a hitch. The rough start with Caressa is long forgotten, and I adore them both. The most shocking part of this is that that adoration seems to be returned, even by her. He was right, but I think I'll keep that little acknowledgement to myself.

"What are you snickering at?" He leans his head back to gaze up at me with narrowed eyes.

We're both showered and ready for bed, I'm sitting on the couch and he's sitting on the floor between my legs while I massage his neck and shoulders. Another battle won for me, considering he hardly ever lets me touch him in any way.

"Nothing," I smile at him.

He quickly pulls my legs over his shoulders and locks my ankles in one of his hands and tortuously tickles my feet with the other. "Another lie... don't think I've forgotten about your impending punishment for your earlier offenses. You're only adding to it, and there are many ways I can punish you."

I squirm and squeal but he doesn't let up. "Please!" I beg, but it only makes him laugh.

"You're keeping secrets from me. I don't like that, so I will torture you until you tell me."

I have no doubts that he means it, and I really can't take any more. "Okay! Please stop! I was just thinking that your mom kind of might maybe adore me and that you were right, which I didn't want to acknowledge to you, because your head is already big enough. Now please stop."

"See, that wasn't so hard. And of course I was right, I told you I didn't have any doubts about that. What happened that night at dinner was about me, not you. I knew they would both love you, and they do."

"Well, I am adorable."

"Yes you are."

I pull his head back and give him a sweet kiss. He winks at me, and upside down or not, it melts me just the same.

"So, do you think you can handle another day of confinement tomorrow? I don't want you to feel like you can't breathe, sweetheart, but I just can't leave you alone."

He's got my legs pinned securely against his chest, trailing his fingers lightly up and down my skin under my pajama bottoms, all my hands can do at the moment is play with his silky dark hair. "I'll manage, I promise to try not to complain too much. You know, you're supposed to be getting a massage here... "

"I did, and it was wonderful, thank you, but I'm rather comfortable if you are."

"Do you think you could be comfortable up here with me? I've been thinking about something and I'd like to discuss it with you, and I'd prefer to see your face if that's okay? Unless you're too tired?"

"Of course." He slips himself out from under my legs and sits down next to me. "What's been going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"Well... I know things are a little complicated at the moment, but I can't just sit around forever and do nothing. I do love what I do, and I want to work. I need to be around it. I miss it."

He frowns and I know why, but I don't want him to think that way. "Don't do that... I have loved every second of the time I've been getting to spend with you, please know that, but it's not all we are. I know you haven't complained once, but your face lit up today when we walked into Jouissance... I saw it. It was beautiful. You've missed it. I'm not hurt by that, only that I've kept you from it."

"I was where I wanted to be. I was taking care of the most important thing in my life. I mean that, Claire."

"I know you do, and that means the world to me, but I don't want you to give something else you love up for me, not for any amount of time. You know how much my painting means to me, that's why you gave me a place to do that here. It's a part of me. You understand that, and you're one of the few people in my life that has. You haven't tried to take it away from me, or me from it. You support me, and my love for it. That means more to me than you could understand, and I think one of the reasons you can is because you feel true passion for what you do. I think we're very much the same that way. Your passion is one of the things I love most about you."

"Your understanding of me confounds me, along with every other thing about you."

I smile at him and he gently strokes my hair away from my face as he looks at me, his eyes wary. "Are you reconsidering an offer? I thought we'd already decided nothing was right for you."

"We have. I'm not reconsidering any of them, but I think I understand why none of them are right for me. The Bouchards gave me free reign... as far as my position, which changed over the years, they always had complete trust in me...

When they wanted to retire, they asked me to run things, not Nadine, even though she was already deeply involved in the business. I wasn't interested. It was more responsibility than I wanted. I worked my own schedule... they'd never had a problem with it, but if I had taken them up on their offer that would have changed. I wouldn't have been able to spend as much time away from the gallery. I wasn't willing to make that sacrifice. I wasn't willing to give up that much of myself.

The artist side of me is very particular. I need things a certain way. I need control. They gave me that. The art world knows me, and knows my work, but that happened slowly - the connection between the two. I prefer a certain level of anonymity. I don't have to tell you that I don't put my name on my paintings... "

"No, you don't. It certainly would have made things easier for me." He scowls at me and a part of me wishes I had, so he could have found me a long time ago.

"I know," I sigh, "But, lucky for me, you never gave up."

"As if that were even possible once I saw your beautiful face?"

"But, Jaimin, that's why. I paint for me, I always have, but when I decided to share that, I wanted my art to be appreciated for what it was. I don't mean this to sound arrogant or cocky, but I know what I look like. I know how awed people sometimes are by it. I saw very early on how my face could affect things... I didn't want anyone to want my paintings because they wanted a piece of me. I wanted them to want my art because it spoke to them, or they though it was beautiful, not the face of the person who held the brush that created it. You wanted me because you saw my face on a canvas, but you wanted my paintings for something you saw in them. That's what I want. That is everything to me as an artist.

It's not about money. It's not about fame or greed. I don't care if no one knows my name, and I prefer they don't know my face. My work stands on it's own. It's enough for me."

"You amaze me."

"You should understand it. I hated you, but I would have walked through hell every Monday morning for that plate. Oh wait... I did."

He gives me a guilty, apologetic smile. "Would you do it now that you know?"

"Now that I know, I'd crawl through hell if I had to... but to get to the arrogant bastard who creates it, not for the plate itself. Not that it isn't worth it."

"Well, I promise you, you'll never have to crawl to get to me. Not that I wouldn't perhaps be intrigued to stand behind you while you crawled... "

"But if you were standing behind me, I would be crawling away from you, and I would never do that. Your little fantasy is flawed, but I'd be more than happy to help you come up with a new one, and fulfill it to the best of my ability."

"Why, Miss Beaulieu... your devotion and dedication to your arrogant bastard is commendable. I think it should be rewarded. I do believe you have just been granted a pardon."

"A pardon?"

"My pretty little ass is safe."

"I'd be willing to sacrifice it for a different reward."

"I'm sure you would, but it's mine, and therefore not yours to offer as such sacrifice."

"Did I mention that my arrogant bastard is cruel?"

"You may have once or twice, but consider this... what you view as cruel may, indeed, be intended as kindness."

"I'm not afraid, you know. I'm brave, remember?"

"Patience, sweetheart. Now, I believe we were having a discussion?"

I stick my tongue out at him and he chuckles wickedly. "I assure you, I will let you use that one of these days. I may even be bold enough to issue it as an order. We'll see how brave you are then. And if it helps you to know... I'm quite looking forward to it."

An order? I shouldn't like that, should I?

You shouldn't.


Yet, there's something...

You're on your own. I already know about your other decision, and you have my full support on THAT. Good night, freak.


I look at him and he's staring at me with an amused expression. "I'd give anything to be inside your head."

Traitor face! "Just there?"

"But then again, I think you let most of what's in there fly out of your smart mouth, so... and NO, not just there. Now, can we please get back to what else is in there?"

"Okay, since you asked nicely. I... "

"Hold on... that's all I have to do to get you to behave? Ask nicely?"

I laugh at his ridiculous, in-his-dreams question. "Have we met?"

"Point made, you adorable brat. How foolish of me. You were saying?"

"What I was saying is that I don't think anything is going to be right for me. I don't think anyone will give me everything I want. I had a unique situation with the Bouchards, I don't believe I will find that again. I might get close, if someone wanted me bad enough, but I'd probably have to budge on something. Well, I don't want to budge. I want my way. I want everything that I want. The only person who will give me that is me. I don't want to work for anyone. I want my own place.

So, there it is. That's what I've been thinking about. I'd like to know what you think. Your opinion is important to me. So is your support, but I know you'll be honest with me, even if you think I can't do it."

"You want to know what I think? Really think?"

"I do."

"I'd like to hear those two little words come out of your beautiful mouth again someday... " His voice trails off and his innocent smile returns to melt me. He's instantly vulnerable, and I'm mush.

"You will," I whisper, "if that's what you want."

"I want it to be what you want."

"I think you should refer to your notes."

"I think you should come here so I can answer your question."

I sit up on my knees and scoot closer to him and he laughs. "Since when do you wait for my permission?"

I shrug innocently and give him a shy smile. His arms move quickly, pulling me to straddle his lap in an anything-but-careful manner, as his lips find mine. I feel vulnerability in his mouth, but his hands are desperate, one cupped around the back of my head, one around his pardoned prize, both holding me securely against him. I thread my fingers into his hair gently, knowing that any frenzied movement will probably make him stop. His answer can wait, this is what I want now.

I feel his fingers tangle into my hair and pull, my head falling backwards as his lips leave mine to feast on my neck. He begins to speak and his voice keeps me from falling over the edge of dizzied bliss. "I like that you don't want to work for anyone," he murmurs against my neck. He resumes his heavenly torture before he speaks again, "I don't want anyone telling you what to do."

"No one?" I ask breathlessly.

"No one but me."

"Of course."

He chuckles against me and then his mouth leaves me, his eyes suddenly serious as he looks at me. "What I think, Claire, is that you can do anything. You don't have to want my support, you don't have to ask for it, you have it. Don't ever question or doubt that. I want you to have everything you want, but I also want you to know that you're not the only person who can give it to you. You're strong enough, I know that absolutely, but I believe I can give you everything you want... "

"Oh, I know... but there's a difference... one detail that I can't ignore... You said can. I said will."

He smirks arrogantly at me, and the next thing I know, we're up and moving. "We'll have to come back to that, because right now I want something."

"What do you want?"

"I'm hungry."

Then why are we headed... ? "Jaimin... the kitchen is that way." I point in the opposite direction just as he crosses the threshold to his bedroom.

He throws me down on the bed and grins at me, and licks his lips. "You told me to refer to my notes... I'm giving you what you want."

"But I... oh... "

He climbs onto the bed and hovers over me, his brows raised in question, "Unless you don't want that. You can always say no."

Well, he does have a way with words... "I can't. The thought of you hungry hurts me."

He pulls my top over my head and throws it to the side, smiling at me. "You don't know how much it pleases me that you listen to the things I say to you, and that you're so sweet."

"Of course I do. I'm devoted and dedicated... and if you want sweet, there's lots more where that came from, all for you."

He yanks my pajama bottoms off of me a little less than gently and my breath catches in anticipation. I watch his eyes trail over me and I know he won't stop, he'll take what he wants, but just maybe I can get him to be fair...

I'm immediately distracted from my intended request by his mouth on mine, no longer vulnerable, his hunger unmistakable. He doesn't linger, the frenzy is building quickly, pulling him down my body... my neck, my shoulders, my breasts... his hands and mouth staking their claim. His hurried pace leaves no question, he wants it, he wants to taste me, and I will gladly give it to him, but I want something too. His mouth reaches my stomach, his fingers nearing the one piece of fabric that stands between his tongue and what it craves, and I know I have to find my voice or it will be too late.

I reach for his face, trying to tilt it up to me, hoping he won't be able to deny me when he sees the want in my eyes. "Jaimin... "

His eyes flit to mine, but his mouth doesn't leave me, continuing it's course as I feel his fingers reach the inside of my panties.

It's now or never. "I'm hungry too," I murmur silkily, as his face slips from my grasp.

I see the temptation for one brief second and then it's gone, his smirk back in place. "Sorry, you beautiful, spoiled little brat, my kitchen is closed."

A pout forms on my face, but quickly disappears as I watch him shred the delicate fabric of my panties as he rips them from me.

He pushes my legs open roughly and moans, his eyes now focused on what's before him. "Yours is open, and you're going to feed me."

The shyness I sometimes feel threatens to overtake me, but I fight it. I don't want it here, not now. I focus on his want and push it away. It's not hard... His desire for me fascinates me. It's pure and raw and so intense it makes my head spin. The anticipation of what I know his mouth will do to me makes me tremble with need and his playful words give me courage. I trail my fingers down my body slowly and the movement distracts him. I consider that it might make him angry, but he said yours and so I'm taking a chance. I watch his eyes closely as they follow my trail, looking for any signs that my actions will make him jealous, but I don't see any, not yet. My right hand reaches my anxiously waiting flesh and I see his eyes narrow. He just can't help himself. I know I'm pushing it, but I don't stop, my only intention to give him what he wants. I let my left hand graze over me and up the inside of my thigh just to where I can reach his face and cup it in my hand as my right finds it's prize. My fingers move through my soft folds and I'm careful not to writhe my body against my own delicate touch, but his possessiveness has already taken over. His eyes fly to mine and the angry set to his mouth tells me he misreads my intentions.

"No, baby," I shake my head and smile at him. "Only for you. I just want to feed you."

His eyes flicker and I bring my glistening fingers from my wetness to his mouth. He opens for me before I can ask him to, anxious for what I offer. He licks each one slowly before pulling them seductively into his mouth, looking at me as he sucks appreciatively.

"More," he says in a low, sexy voice.

I smile sweetly at him and return my fingers to my pooling juices. I'm dripping wet from the knowledge of how much he craves me and the pleasure that I know awaits me. He doesn't follow my hand, his eyes stay on my face. He needs to see that it's only for him, that my pleasure will come from him and him alone. My need to give him what he wants is stronger than any physical sensation I feel as I gather my sweet gift to him on my fingers. I gently stroke his cheek with my thumb, and something about the way he lets me hold his face in my hand as I bring my soaked fingers back to his waiting mouth swells my heart so much I fear it will burst. I know he sees the love in my eyes, I see what it does to him as he graciously accepts my gifts. I watch with pure awe as he licks and sucks every drop from my fingers and his tongue searches for more, his eyes pleading with me.

I move my hand to thread through his hair before gently gripping the back of his head and pulling it towards me as I lift myself to him, my voice soft and sweet, "Here, my love. It's right here."

He smiles at me with such joyful desire that I crumble before his mouth even touches me, but touch me it does... His soft lips move lovingly over me, slow gentle kisses, his frenzied pace now calmed. His fingers trail lightly up and down my thighs as his tongue mimics his movements, featherlight over my sensitive flesh. My own fingers are gently tugging at his hair, pulling him to me as I move against his sweet, selfless mouth. Our eyes are locked on each other and I smile as I realize how wrong I am about the selfless part. He wants to make me feel good, wants to leave no doubts that he can, but this is for him. My arrogant bastard is enthralled.

Did I mention arrogant?

"Stop moving."

I pout and he bites down on me, narrowing his eyes. "Master and commander... your words, sweetheart."

Well, two can play at this game... "My kitchen... your words. Maybe I should close it."

Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. In one swift move he flips me over and pulls me up on my knees, my ass in the air. I know what's coming. I grit my teeth and grip the pillow, waiting for what I expect may hurt like hell. I won't complain, I deserve this one for what I just robbed myself of. Me and my stupid, smart mouth...

Why don't I feel pain? Oh... of course. He has his precious ass up in the air before him, and it's bare. It's the first time he's seen it in all it's natural glory. I hear him mumble something, but I can't make out the words. Like I would miss this? I raise myself up on my elbows and turn to look. He looks like he's just found the Holy Grail. He wouldn't...

I'm so enraptured by his fascinated gaze that I don't notice when his hand rears back and comes down hard on my right cheek.

"Shit! Damn it!" God, it hurts... tears spring instantly to my eyes.

He repeats his punishment on the other side, just as hard, if not harder, and I clamp my mouth shut. I know what the second one was for, I won't make that mistake again.

I feel him start to kiss tenderly up my back, and the sensation momentarily distracts me from the pain. He moves my hair away from me, and out of the way of his lips, and stops when he reaches my neck, to whisper in my ear.

"Do you know why I did that?"

I nod my head slightly and he expels an irritated breath. I feel the shift as his hand rears back again and I reach back to cover myself, pleading, "Please don't. I'm sorry... yes, I know why."

"Move your hands."

"Please, Jaimin... "

"Now."

I move my hands, not wanting to make him any angrier, and bite my lip as I wait, but instead of his hand exacting more punishment, it strokes gently through my hair. He leans over me, his body pressed against mine, and rests his chin on my shoulder.

"You can always tell me no, Claire, but doing it, or threatening to do it, just to spite me, is not something I will accept from you. I realize you may have just been teasing, but I didn't like it. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And I've told you before about that pretty mouth of yours and what I don't like to hear come out of it. I've let it slide a few times, but I won't make that mistake again. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"You made me break a rule today, that won't happen again. No more pardons. You might want to think about that. Whatever your smart little mouth does to get you into trouble, my pretty little ass will pay for. And now that I've seen how pretty it really is, that makes me unhappy. Very unhappy. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes."

"I hope you do, sweetheart. And, Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever cover yourself. Don't ever put something between me and what I want, what's mine. You belong to me, and you will endure for me whatever I choose to do to you. And before you point out the obvious, you're smart enough to know the difference. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." He leans up slightly and kisses my cheek, "Did I really hurt you?"

"Yes. I know you're mad, but please don't do it again, I'm... "

"Shhh... I'm not mad. It's over, I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't realize it was that hard."

I lift my head just enough to see his eyes, and they're not angry. "Can I have a kiss?"

"I'm sure I don't deserve for you to offer me that beautiful mouth, but if that's what you want... "

His voice trails off and he kisses me deeply. I taste myself on his tongue and desire courses through me, desire for what I deprived myself of. I moan into his mouth, begging selfishly for him to want me, to want to give it to me. His hand comes off the bed to wrap around my throat as he pulls my mouth harder to his, his possession taking over. I feel his body as he shifts his weight and lifts his other hand from the bed to my left breast. The mix of sensations I feel is dizzying. His dominant grip on my throat, his controlling kiss, his relentless tease of my nipple between his fingers as his rough hold of my breast pulls my body back against... oh my... his arousal grinding wonderfully against me. His pajama bottoms do nothing to disguise how much he wants me and I can't help myself, I raise myself up on my hands and push against him greedily.

I'm left gasping for air as his mouth leaves mine, and he pulls roughly on my nipple. "As much as you know I want you, I will stop if you don't hold still."

"No... please... "

"All up to you, beautiful."

"I won't move."

"I don't know... it won't be easy... holding completely still, while not holding your breath, and not, under any circumstances, turning yourself off to me... I'm not sure you can do it. And sweetheart... I'll be very disappointed in you if you can't, because I really don't want to stop."

"I promise. I won't disappoint you."

"We'll see."

I'll prove it to him if it kills me. I take a deep breath and let it out, concentrating on my breathing until I find a slow, steady rhythm. I hear him chuckle behind me at my efforts and then feel his hand sweep my hair to the side again as his lips fall to my back. My efforts were for naught... my breaths are instantly ragged and I know he hears it. He chuckles against my skin this time, but continues his trail of kisses downward. It can't be normal how sensitive this part of my body is, I am positively trembling with every soft touch of his lips.

"You're teetering," he warns between kisses. His right hand moves under me to cup my breast as his left continues it's torture on the other. I give a small cry as he takes my nipple between his fingers and I must move without realizing it because he stills all of his movements. Oh no...

"Let me help you." He slides his hands from my breasts, down my stomach and around my hips. They move up my back and gently rub my shoulders, before stroking down my arms and stopping. "Bend, sweetheart, and rest on your arms and lay your beautiful face on the pillow."

"You're not stopping?" I ask, as I position myself the way he told me to.

"No. Are you more comfortable now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He reaches up and adjusts my face on the pillow, closer to the edge. "Can you breathe?"

It melts my heart that he would think of such a thing now. "Yes," I smile sweetly at him.

He kisses me tenderly, inhaling my hair, and whispers "Now, where was I?" bringing his mouth back to where it left off.

"I think it was higher."

"Here?" he asks, moving up slightly.

"Higher."

"Here?" Another kiss, higher still.

"No, keep going."

"Be careful, Claire, if you want me to start over, just ask me, but don't lie to me."

"Please, will you start over?"

He laughs and trails his tongue up my skin until it reaches my neck, sending shivers convulsing through me. "See? I will give you what you want." His hands begin to move over my back in a gentle massage, his mouth following with open mouthed kisses over every inch.

I can't control the endless whimpers that flow from my lips, but he seems to like that, hearing how good he makes me feel. He backs further away from me with every gift of his mouth and his hands are now grasping my hips. I feel the absence of his lips and he makes a small, strangled sound, leaning over and turning on the lamp. I feel his cool breath flow over my stinging behind and I know... he now knows how hard he smacked me. He must have left some kind of mark. I close my eyes in frustration, sure he will stop now, but then I feel his lips on my tender, stinging skin.

"I'm sorry. It was much too hard... I'm so sorry I hurt you... "

"It only stings a little now... you're making it feel much better," I murmur softly, because it's true, his lips feel heavenly.

He continues his heavenly apology, between whispers of the same, and his adoration of his prized possession is clear. His hands move very lightly over my skin and down between my legs. He trails the backs of his hands along the insides of my thighs, pushing them farther apart, and then his fingers glide through my wet, pulsing heat. My legs tremble violently with my effort not to move against him, I couldn't bear it if he stopped now. My soft moans urge him on and his fingers move more quickly, up over my sweet spot and down again, a game of blissful torment, as his left hand moves to stroke up and down my back. He teases again and again the place where I open for him, but moves away each time, leaving me aching. I twist my neck slightly, so that I can look at him, expecting to find a smirk on his face, but his eyes are on me, and his smile is sweet.

I give him a small pout, and his fingers make their way back down, just where I want him, and he raises his brows in a silent question.

"Please?" I ask, but he only smiles and moves them away. I'm nearing a full-on tantrum when he reaches that little nub of nerves again and my hands grip desperately to the pillow to keep from moving, though it does nothing for the helpless cry that escapes from my mouth.

His voice is low and sinful as he speaks to me, mixing with the subtle sounds of his fingers moving through my dripping flesh. "Do you hear that? How wet you are for me?"

"Yes... please... don't you want me? Don't you want to take what's yours?" I try, shamelessly.

"You mean this?" he asks innocently, as he drags through my folds and slips a finger very slowly inside.

I whimper a pleasure-filled yes, but it's not the only sound, it's met with a low, growling "Fuck" from his now-slack mouth. His eyes nearly close and his hand on my back stills as he agonizingly slowly moves it inside of me. My own eyes close with the sensation and I feel his labored breaths on my skin as he bends to rest his head on my back.

He mutters something unintelligible and suddenly pulls it from me, and my desperate pleading is silenced as his mouth reclaims me in a rapturous assault. It's the last thing I expected from the position he kept me in, but the sensation of his mouth taking me this way is exquisite. I cry out as his tongue works feverishly to fill it's need, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. I can't hold still anymore, and I no longer try to control it, because I know he won't stop now. His mouth is ravenous and it won't be denied. I wriggle and writhe and squirm as he tries to satiate his hunger, but I don't think he will ever be full. My moans turn to cries and cries to screams as he takes and takes and takes, and when I come apart and my legs can no longer hold me up, still he doesn't stop. I'm lifted and held securely in one arm as his other wraps around my hips to pin me to his relentless mouth. I have created a monster. I might jump up and down and do back flips for my good fortune if I weren't hanging upside down, my hands gripping for purchase on the luxurious duvet beneath them.

"Jaimin... " I plead through gasping breaths, "please, baby... all of the blood is rushing to my head... "

His right arm grips tighter over my hips to hold me as his left slides down my back until my head is cupped in his hand. He tucks it under and I let go of the duvet and let him drop me down on the bed. I'm completely unaware of the advantaged position he's placed me in because my head is spinning wildly and through all of this, his mouth has still not left me.

"My God, you're relentless... " I muse breathlessly, completely in awe.

He laughs against his ravished treat and an indescribable jolt surges through me, sending my hands gripping for purchase again. It is now that I realize he is straddled over me and what I long for is within my grasp. My eyes fly open and just as I reach for him, his mouth locks down on me in one final mind-blowing suck, the force of which nearly lifts me from the bed. This distracts me, of course, because I'm pretty sure my mind and body, together or separately I'm not sure of, leaves planet Earth. Holy. Hell.


When I open my eyes again, he's lying beside me, his head propped in his hand, grinning wickedly at me. "Welcome back, sweetheart. How was your trip?"

My voice is weak, even to my own ears, "You... are... shameless."

His cocky laugh leaves no question that he's proud of this. "That's true, but it's your fault. You... are... heaven."

"Thank you. Truly, THANK YOU. And you can feel free to visit heaven any time."

He laughs harder this time and the sound is beautiful. "You're very welcome. And I assure you, I plan to, with or without your invitation, being that said heaven belongs to me."

"As you see fit... Now, speaking of heaven, I'm hungry. Please reopen your kitchen, I need food to regain my strength. Feed me."

"Anything for you, my sweet. What would you like?"

"I think I need protein, and since you won't give me any, I want eggs."

"The things that come out of your smart mouth... Anything else?"

"Yes. I have been dangerously depleted of fluids. I need something to drink."

"On that, you are correct. Very dangerously depleted. And since I am fully and blissfully responsible for that depletion, and deeply concerned about you, allow me to make up for that now."

"I insist on it. Now, give me my pajamas."

"I don't think you need them. Besides, they just stand in the way of my heaven."

"You've had enough for one day. Give."

"What did you just say to me?"

Oh crap. "I'm not responsible for the things I may misspeak of, my starvation and fluid loss, which you choose to ignore, are making me delirious."

"We will come back to this. Now, would you like to stay here and relax and have your demands brought to you or come with me?"

"I want to come."

"Again?" he asks with a smirk. "Okay, beautiful, just let me feed and rehydrate you, and then your wish is my command."

I giggle, not realizing how it sounded until now. He finds my pajama top and pulls it over my head, smiling at me adoringly.

"I didn't mean it that way, I swear," I say, pushing my arms into the sleeves. "But with you, absolutely. If I'm ever granted the privilege. Where are my bottoms?"

"Forever's a long time, sweetheart. There is no if, I promise you." Something flashes in his eyes, but he pushes it away, and adds "I like you without the bottoms."

"Okay, if that's what you want, but we either both wear them or both don't."

"Look at my precious brat trying to make rules... she's a brave little thing."

I smile at him sweetly and then spot my bottoms on the floor. "Could you hand me those, please?" I ask, pointing to the spot where they lay.

"Why don't you lean over and get them?" he replies with a wicked grin.

"Because I'm not that brave. And I really don't like pain. I may be in trouble again, and I don't think I could take any more punishment right now."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Pick up the bottoms, Claire."

I start to protest, but I see the test of trust weaved into his playful order. I won't fail it. I lean off of the bed to pick them up, giving him full view of what he wants to see. I watch his admiring gaze until he sighs and reaches for them. I give them to him and he holds them up, and I stand up on the bed, holding his shoulders as I step into them.

He gives me an appreciative squeeze once he's pulled them over me. "Ready?"

"Almost," I say, and start jumping on the bed.

He shakes his head and laughs as he watches me. "You're adorable."

I giggle and leap from the bed into him, and he catches me perfectly, my arms and legs wrapping around him. "Thank you. I was just testing the bed... and you... you know, for sturdiness. You both passed."

He laughs and kisses my nose, and heads to the kitchen, with me still wrapped around him. "I'm not sure how much of a test you are, sweetheart. The brat in you is mighty, but you're kind of little."

I stick my tongue out at him childishly and he reaches up and tugs on my hair. "You should wear pigtails, little girl."

"Whatever turns you on... "

He winks at me and starts to set me down on the counter, but I climb back onto him and lock my legs tight.

"I thought you were hungry? I have to put you down to feed you, monkey," he laughs.

"I know," I say softly, "I just like having my arms around you." I lay my head on his shoulder and nuzzle his neck with a contented sigh.

He moans softly and holds me tighter, stroking my hair. We stay this way for a few moments, and when he tries to put me down again, I don't fight it. He sets me gently on the counter, and takes my face in his hands, looking into my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," I whisper, and kiss him deeply, then narrow my eyes at him. "Are you ever going to wash me off? I miss the taste of you."

His eyes blaze and he shakes his head while licking his lips. I roll my eyes and sigh. "Selfish. FOOD."

He chuckles and walks to the refrigerator. "Are you sure you want eggs? The monkey is on the loose again... we have bananas."

I laugh and shake my head. "Eggs."

"As you wish. And to drink?"

"Orange juice."

He pours my glass of juice and starts to hand it to me, but pulls it back, speaking softly, "I shouldn't have put you there. Why don't you hop down and sit where you're more comfortable?"

"I'm fine. I promise. I like to sit here. It's my spot."

"Why?" he asks, handing me my juice.

"Because I like to watch you spoil me," I say, and take a long drink.

"I think you like to watch a lot of things."

His sexy smile makes my heart pound.

"I'm a visual person. The sense of sight is very important to me. You should show me something."

"Maybe I'm afraid it would make you run away from me," he smirks.

"I promise not to. And like you said... I'm a brave little thing."

"Believe me, I know."

His I know was not playful. "What does that mean?"

"I think we should talk about something else."

"I want to talk about this. No games, no jokes, no smart remarks. Why won't you allow yourself any pleasure?"

"I assure you, I do."

"I know that you take pleasure in visual stimulation and I know that turning me inside out does something for you, and I'm shamelessly grateful for that, but that's not what I meant and you know it."

"Claire."

"No. Not this time. I remember what you said, Jaimin. All of the reasons you gave me...

You said I wasn't ready... a lot has changed since then. Believe me, I am ready.

You said you needed me to trust you... well, I do. I think I prove that to you every day.

You said you wanted me to trust that you were capable of more... I don't know exactly how you treated the women whose beds you crawled into, and I don't care, but I know the tenderness that you're capable of... the tenderness that you show me."

"Claire, if you're going to make a point, and use my words to do it, do it honestly."

"I didn't say you were always tender. I said I know that you're capable of it. Is that what this is really about? Are you actually afraid of hurting me?"

His eyes are sad, but he doesn't answer. He sits the plate down next to me and gathers a bite of eggs on the fork, blows on it and holds it up to my mouth. "Open."

"I'll let you feed me, but we're still talking about this," I say stubbornly, and open, letting him put it in my mouth. "Aren't you hungry?" I ask through my mouthful.

"I had what I wanted," he says with another cocky smirk.

The blush makes it's uninvited appearance on my face and his smirk turns into a sweet smile. "There's my innocent girl."

"Are you afraid she'll go away? Is that it?"

"No, I think that part of you will always be there on some level. It's who you are. But if I'm wrong... and I do something to kill that part of you, I'll never forgive myself." He feeds me another bite and I look at him thoughtfully.

"How can you think making love to me, or letting me give you something will do that? Getting back to your words... you said you want me to understand how you feel about me. You need me to know it would mean something to you... I know that you love me. I knew it before you said it. And if it didn't mean something to you, you would have taken it a long time ago without a second thought. I do believe you're afraid of hurting me somehow, but just maybe you also needed me to feel a certain way about you first. I love you. I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone, and I will love you forever. I know that. I'm sorry if I've failed in making you know it."

I open my mouth for more and he hurries to slip a bite in, looking at me tenderly. "You haven't failed anything, Claire. Only I've done that."

I shake my head and he puts down the fork to hold it still. "Yes. And you left something out. I know what I said to you that night. And I know why you didn't repeat it to me now. You don't think... "

"No," I cut him off, "I know what you said, too. I wasn't finished... "

He cuts me off this time, "You already said it... right here in this kitchen the other day. And that wasn't the first time you've said I disrespected you. I do respect you, but you don't believe that. That's the truth, and you will really make me angry if you try to deny it."

He picks up the fork again and tries to feed me another bite and I shake my head stubbornly.

"Open your mouth."

"It's not that black and white with you, Jaimin. It's not at all." I open my mouth and hope he hears me.

He shakes his head with a frustrated sigh. "Are we back to you bending for me?"

"You know, I try my best to understand what you want, but it can be very confusing sometimes. You say you don't want me to bend too much for you, you told me not to sacrifice myself to please you, or to make myself less than whole for you... but you want to control me. And you want me to submit to you. You can't deny that. I want to make you happy, but you don't put me in the fairest position to do that. You don't realize it, but you set me up to fail every day. It's not hard to love you, but pleasing you isn't the easiest thing in the world, my smart mouth aside.

You are not black and white. I know about colors, Jaimin, and trust me, you're everything but." I stop and look at my plate. "Feed me the rest of that, so I can show you something. Please."

I can see that my words have hurt him, and it breaks my heart. He's already punishing himself on the inside, but I'm not done... I will make him see, the only way I know how. He puts the last bite into my mouth, and I quickly pick up the plate and jump down to put it into the sink. I turn on the faucet for a second, just enough to give it a quick rinse, and then shut it off, grabbing his hand. He lets me lead him into our shared space, one of his many gifts of tenderness to me. I watch him closely as I move about, making my preparations, gathering what I need, and a small, innocent smile starts to form on his lips when he realizes I'm going to paint something.

He helps me roll out the heavy canvas to cover the floor, which I am terrified of ruining, and something occurs to me. I look down at myself and sigh, "I hope these pajamas aren't your favorite, because I'm probably about to ruin them."

"I am very fond of them, on and off, but ruin away, sweetheart. They can be replaced. This moment can't."

Tears fill my eyes at his words. For him to understand... for this to mean so much to him touches my soul. No one has ever broken down the wall around that. Until now.

"Please don't stop," he whispers, as he wipes my tears. "I didn't mean to... "

I shake my head, "I'm not stopping. It's too important. To both of us."

I know he doesn't understand yet what I want to show him, but I hope he will. I pick up a palette, adding to it my first two colors, black and white, and look at him, letting all that is him wash over me. I reach for my brush and begin to blend a multitude of shades and tones of gray. I want to make him see what I see. A new vision of himself. My hand moves furiously but purposefully over the canvas creating a chaos of shadows.

"Is that me?" he asks in a quiet whisper from beside me. I give him a sideways glance and he misinterprets it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... Not another word."

"You can talk," I say with a smile. I'm used to quiet when I paint, but his beautiful voice could never bother me.

One would think the muted, dull gray tones would lay flat and lifeless, but they dance on the canvas, pulling you into their oblivion. They are him.

"It's part of you," I finally answer, stopping for a moment to turn and look at him.

He's staring at it intently, his mouth turned down. He has returned to his self-assault. I don't say anything, and turn my eyes back to the brewing storm. His eyes follow my hand as I pick up another brush and drag it through the black and I hear him sigh. I can't focus on his misunderstanding, can't let it distract me. I let the black take over, as if I could deny it... He doesn't know what it is, not yet, he probably sees it as some kind of evil, but it's not at all, and he will see.

I drop the brush and grab another, abandoning my process, not willing to waste time. I dip it into the white, and bathe my beautiful chaos in delicate light.

"That's you," he whispers again, a smile in his voice this time.

"No, still you," I correct softly, laying down my palette and picking up another. He shakes his head, but doesn't say anything else, and watches as I fill the new palette with a myriad of colors. I dip my brush again into the discarded white on the table and am ready to show him how beautifully confusing he is.

I work to control my usually lost state because I want to see. I glance at him often, and it is him who is lost, mesmerized by each stroke of my brush in my hand as the chaos of grays and light is transformed. I know when his moment of recognition occurs, though it's long before I expect it, when his hand reaches up to tenderly stroke my hair. The seemingly meaningless shadows and light take shape and purposeful definition as his face begins to appear, brought to life by a dizzying mix of color and careful strokes.

This is what I wanted to show him. This is what I need him to understand. He is anything but black and white. He is anything but simple. He is complex and layered and beautifully chaotic and as much work as it is, I will take the time to understand and make him happy and keep him real. It's not an easy path, it dips and turns and dances before me... Sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall flat on my face, but I get up and try again; over and over again, and keep going, because what's at the end of it is worth everything to me. It is my future, it is my life, it is him.

I have only to choose an expression and I smile at the possibilities. What do I want to show him? There are so many to choose from... his arrogant smirk... his don't-disobey-me glare... his sexy as hell distracted-by-desire gaze... his playful grin... his face-splitting pure happiness smile...

I'm getting nowhere, the list is endless, and I want to see them all... but this isn't for me. I have forever to capture his each and every mood, and I will, but right now he needs to see something that will make him see good in himself. There is only one face I can show him.

I can't help the smile that plasters itself to my own as I finish. And I can't help but be proud of how perfect it is. I really am brilliant.

I drop my palette and brushes onto the table and turn to look at him. His expression is pure awe. I will capture that one too, but not now.

"How did you...? I watched you... but how...? It was a gray storm... beautiful and hypnotic... but confusing... and now... "

I give him an exasperated sigh, "That is you."

He looks at me as though he can't believe I'm standing here, and lifts his hand to stroke my cheek. "The way you see me... it's incredible, but that's not me."

"Yes it is."

"It's my face, but the expression... maybe that's just what you want to see... "

"No... I see that face all of the time."

"There's no evil in that face, Claire. No arrogance. It's gentle. It's vulnerable, and while I know I've had my moments of that with you, it's also innocent, and that's not possible... " He trails off, shaking his head, and I smile at him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"That's what you think because you don't see yourself when you look at me. Not always, of course... you have a thousand different moods, but when you're sweet... when you're not angry or irritated with me... when you open your heart wide and offer it to me in a way you're not sure I'll take... this is the face I see. This is the face of the man I will do anything for.

I know I get it wrong a lot of times, but I promise you I try, Jaimin, I do, and I will never stop trying. Please have patience with me... that beautiful, hypnotic storm isn't always easy. I'll endure it, I'll endure anything for you, but I do have to bend for you. It doesn't break me, but you might if I didn't. I can't give you what you want... I can't give you what you demand... I can't give you what you need without bending. Can you see that? Can you try? For me? Please? And can you bend just a little in return?"

He's quiet for a long time and I watch him, my chin resting on his chest as I gaze up at him, my arms still wrapped around him. He opens his mouth a few times, but closes it, perhaps thinking better of what he wanted to say. His eyes move repeatedly from my face to the painting and I know he's struggling, though exactly with what, I'm not sure. Maybe I said too much.

He cups my head in his hands and lowers his lips to place a gentle kiss on my forehead, and then reaches behind him to free himself from my arms. "I just need a few minutes... " He turns then, and leaves the room and I'm left staring open-mouthed and alone.

He needs a few minutes? A few minutes for what? Shit! What did I say? He's never walked out on me before. He's never turned his back on me. He's never pulled away from me, except to stop something he thought had gone too far... but this isn't that. This isn't that at all. Oh God, what have I done?

I hear what I think is the bathroom door close and try to get a grip on myself. Why am I panicking? He said he just needed a few minutes. Surely he's entitled to that. Geez, clingy, let the man breathe! Yes, I can do that. I have a mess to clean up anyway. I try to distract myself by doing just that... I've never used so many brushes in my life, and they definitely need tending to and now.

The panic starts to creep back up on me when I'm finished and he still hasn't come back. It has been much longer than a few minutes. I heard the bathroom door open a long time ago...

I don't know what to do. I don't know where he is in the apartment, or what he's doing, and I don't want to push myself on him when he clearly wants to be alone. He always says I could never bother him, but he's the one who left and hasn't come back to me. If I had done that to him... yeah, right... he'd have never let me walk away from him.

I wander aimlessly about the room, my eyes moving again and again to the open doorway, willing him to appear, but it remains empty. He's only feet away from me, I know that, but not knowing what the thoughts are that are consuming him, and why he can't share them with me makes it feel like we're worlds apart. I want to go to him, to prove to myself that he's somewhere just beyond that open door, but how can I when he walked away from me out of need?

I can't.

He's taken my space away.

I look one last time towards the door as tears blur my vision. It's not open anymore, not for me, it's closed and I am locked in by his words.

No space means no air, and I cross the room to the window and open it wide, the cool air blasting across my tear-drenched cheeks. I don't care that I'm probably stupid for crying, yet again, and I don't try to stop myself. I feel fear and I feel pain and that brave little girl is nowhere in sight. She's sleeping peacefully somewhere, dreaming of fields full of flowers and playing in the rain.

I look to the sky, begging it to have mercy on me, willing her to hear my silent plea, but the rain doesn't come. The only puddles that will form will be from my own tears. I curl up in the overstuffed chair and pick up my sketchbook. I open it to my last drawing of the sad-eyed, adorable prisoner, and wish I could trade her places. The sadness she felt was nothing compared to being trapped behind an open door.

I flip to an empty page and the tears continue to fall as my hand moves over the paper. I don't look up again, I can't bear the emptiness I know is waiting there, my eyes concentrated intently on the images coming to life before me.

The cold is chilling me to the bone, my body shivering with it, and my bare feet are numb, but I don't stop to close the window. I want the numb, I want it to envelop me, and dull the ache.

A deep feeling of exhaustion threatens to pull me under, but I fight it. I need to see. I need to see what the pain looks like. This only I can give to myself, my gifted fingers in perfect sync with my fearful mind and wounded heart.

My hand stills and a new wave of tears rolls unrelenting over my cheeks, stinging from the cold, as I study the vivid sadness. A wounded bird sits helplessly with a broken wing, trembling and unable to fly. Tears fall from it's big eyes, my eyes, and pool around it, each drop rippling the pool. The detail is extraordinary... the movement shockingly and painfully real. My heart breaks for the scared creature, my own tortured eyes burning a hole through my exposed soul.

It starts to blur before my eyes, whether from my tears or the exhaustion that I can no longer fight. My eyes flit desperately to the doorway one last time before my lids fall closed and a violent shiver courses through me as the black pulls me into it's dark abyss.


                                                    ~ ~ ~

This chapter kicked my jealous-not-to-be-adored-or-punished-by-him-ass. Thank you, Missy, for giving me a shove back onto solid ground every time I teetered on the edge. As for it, it's what it is. Who am I to tell the arrogant bastard he can't be enthralled? As if.   ~CM